


Delayed Rebellion

by madelinewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love, Mostly Fluff, Water, beach, boat ride, crowley - Freeform, date, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinewrites/pseuds/madelinewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hunter denying their instincts is never easy, especially when it goes against their morals. Dating the King of Hell may not be the most wholesome choice, but is it what you’ve needed all along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delayed Rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Cussing, no smut, flufffity fluff fluff, injuries, could be interpreted self-harm
> 
> A/N: Finally writing a Crowley fic as I have wanted to for so long. I’m quite fond of this, and I hope you are too! And as always….FEEDBACK IS ADORED!!! (Seriously it makes my day do it)

**“[They] can’t…understand you: you’re such an exceptional person. That’s what I liked about you from the start; I felt that you weren’t like everybody else.”**

_-Marcel Proust_

The life of a hunter sucked. There was never a question in that for anyone with over a day of experience. Family life is no longer a possibility, your life is balancing on a tightrope, and one rarely enters the business without some tragic backstory. You hated it, but you couldn’t stop doing it because who knew; maybe for every monster you killed, ten less people would be introduced to hunting. Maybe if there really was a nobility in the work, it was the essence of your continual sacrifice.

Working with the Winchesters had become your saving grace, a family that had become sincerer than your blood relatives. They were loyal and, in their own way, loving. There was a bunker to call home and an angel to stitch you up as you constantly needed. There was the only slice of comfort that sorry hunting lives held; people that you trusted with your life, mostly because you had to on so many occasions, an intensely strong comradery that most humans never get to experience. That’s why when your business with Crowley started to occur, it had been so hard to confront those feelings as real.

You had first met Crowley while hunting with the boys, of course. It was basically a brothel filled with demons, and the boys were having trouble keeping up against the endless flooding of them ready and glad to fight. You had gone into the backroom, where the brain behind the whole system resigned. You were a kick-ass hunter and everyone knew it, so of course he quickly found himself close to dead on the ground, but you found yourself there too. Somehow you had mustered up enough strength to finish him off, but you were bleeding quicker than the boys were fighting, and Cas had been MIA for days. It had seemed like your last moments were near, and you never realized how hard that would be to face.

Seeing death was a part of the job, along with confronting it. Yet, to actually be on the brink of death was a sensation that you couldn’t have prepared for. You weren’t ready for it to be all over, to throw in the towel. You didn’t want to die in some demon brothel, lying helplessly on the ground all alone for the boys to find you later, your blood mingling in with the blood of the demon’s. So, you began crying.

      You never cried, but if it was all ending, what was the point of keeping up some façade of courage? You were scared and sad and pissed and confused. You weren’t _ready_. So you mourned yourself softly, resting your head on your arm as your vision became blurrier and blurrier. That was until you heard him, the voice you would soon find to have unearthly sex appeal. It was deep and accented and authoritative, yet with the slightest touch of sympathy.

“Got yourself caught up with the Winchesters I see,” he chided, finally coming into view as he knelt to look at you. You laughed without heart.

“It’s the life, not them,” you grimaced, your voice shaky. Your sight was weak, but you could still get the rough idea of him. Neatly tailored suit, older, smirk permanently placed on his lips. He emanated power, but you weren’t sure then of what kind.

“I’ve seen established hunters who were fine for decades before they met the Winchesters.” He snapped his fingers. “Then they’re gone.”

             You glared at him, your brain finally taking in the situation.

             “And who are you? I’m guessing no friend of the Winchesters.” You were glad to hear your voice still had a slight edge. Even in dying, you had it.

             “Oh, I am when they need something,” he smirked. “Crowley, King of Hell, at your service.”

             “Enchanté,” you jibed sarcastically. You began to cough into your elbow as force of habit, gasping when you saw blood. Your only pillow, gone. You whimpered slightly, feeling the sharp pain from the stab in your abdomen. You looked back to Crowley, blushing weakly.

             The look of condescension was gone from his face, swapped for a peculiar expression. His brows were furrowed, one hand resting on your arm and the other stroking your hair, but his eyes looked just as confused as you felt. He seemed to ponder something for a moment, and then suddenly the chaos of Sam and Dean fighting was over. He stood up and began to leave the room. The feeling in your stomach started to reside and your eyes began to drift shut. The last thing you heard was a snide “Hello boys” from Crowley before you dozed into oblivion. That was your first meeting with the King of Hell.

You had thought that was the feeling of death, the drifting and comfort, but you quickly realized that was not the case when you woke up in your room in the bunker. As much as you loved Sam and Dean and your unconventional home, you doubted your heaven would reside there. The boys surrounded you, even Cas, all with looks of slight fear and immense worry. When your eyes opened, you swore you could hear a sigh of relief from every one of them. The moment of relief lasted for a short moment.

“Y/N,” Dean quizzed, leaning forward on the kitchen chair he must’ve dragged in for himself. “Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid.”

You squinted your eyes in confusion, looking at all of them searching for the ulterior meaning.

“I mean, I almost _died_ , which isn’t going on the highlight reel…” Your voice trailed off, looking to Sam for the comfort that he almost always came through with. He looked worried as well, and stood up from his chair to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You were in pretty rough shape there, Y/N. The amount of blood there was…you don’t just come out from that alive and with no wounds.”

You leaned back in shock, pulling up your shirt to reveal smooth skin. No scar, no mark, no pain. Completely wiped clean, like magic, better even than when Cas healed you. Finally, you understood where they were coming from.

“You guys honestly don’t think I’m dumb enough to make a deal with the _King of Hell_ , do you? Even if I’m dying, I still have some pride,” you spat. They all looked at each other for a moment, before Dean gave a nod and they went back to their normal selves. They explained that Crowley was a pain in the ass, which is why when he exorcised all the demons back to hell and healed you, they couldn’t really believe him when he said it was a favor. You said you didn’t think he was that bad, but they just shook their heads.

“You don’t know him yet. You’ll see.”

See you would.

He seemed to pop in every time you were injured, giving a few snarky one-liners to the boys and ever-so-gently healing you. All to be considered a favor, Crowley always agreeing that there was no IOU involved. Most of the time, you two were alone, as since you were smaller than the boys you could sneak through to places they couldn’t. Him coming made the solitary missions like a drug, you could hardly work with the boys anymore because there was something about him that was addictive. Finally, after you had gotten yourself injured for the millionth time, he grabbed your phone before going. A simple text to himself, and then you had access to him whenever you pleased.

“If you’re so keen to speak with me, love, then you might as well have this instead of embarking on constant suicide missions,” he teased, sliding your phone back into your pocket. He healed you up, and then was gone. He had fed the addiction, giving you opportunity to get your fix whenever you craved. He always answered back, call or text. You’d find yourself sneaking out of the bunker at night so you could have conversations with him in person. You felt like you were going through a delayed rebellious phase, but the feeling in your heart and stomach seemed so genuine. There was no deal, and it certainly didn’t seem as though the feelings grew as fast as a spell would make them. Somehow, you had begun falling for the leader of creatures you had hated your entire life, and yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to let him go.

Then the moment you had been dreading came, the moment when the boys found out. Not thinking, you had left your phone on the library’s table, and of course over-protective Dean had to peer at it when it buzzed with a new text from Crowley. When you reentered, beer in hand, you were very glad you had gone to get some alcohol.

You and the boys fought for hours, even Sam outraged at the long slew of texts between Crowley and you.

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Have you not been fighting demons with us this whole time?” Dean yelled, his face red and veins bulging. “He’s the bastard that they work for, the _head_ asshole.”

“Dean, listen to me,” you began, but were quickly cut off.

“With everything he stands for, how can even begin to defend this, Y/N?” Sam asked, the hurt on his face cutting you.

“ _Listen to me_ ,” you insisted. “I realize that it’s fucked up, and I genuinely don’t know how to explain it. But he’s so different with me.”

Dean rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath.

“You don’t get it. I’ve seen how he acts with you, he’s not like that with me. He’s kind and attentive and protective. He hasn’t tried to come on to me once, and that’s a feat that most _human_ men can’t achieve. Now you’ve known him longer than me, but you tell me, is that normal?”

Sam looked at you wide eyed, shaking his head in shock.

“ ** _Oh my god, you’re in love!_** ” You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, shaking your head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far just yet- “

“No, no,” Sam insisted. “I know that look. Dad had it for mom, I had it for Jess. You love him.”

You look back and forth between all of them, willfully silent Cas, shocked Sam, pissed Dean. You were at a loss of words, and the room fell silent. Finally, Dean spoke,

      “You know what, Y/N?” Dean said softly. “You go ahead. Date the son of a bitch. Fall in love with him. Let me know how that works out.”

With that, he grabbed his own beer and headed towards his room. Once the dust had settled from the fight, you decided that maybe they were right. Still, you took up Dean on his word.

So there you were, standing on some secluded dock, no boats in sight. The wind was gentle, the ocean calm, but your stomach was in knots. From the months of communication, you had grown to trust him, enough to get close to death every mission. Reckless, idiotic trust. Yet standing there, the trust began to falter. In your mind, the date defined everything. Were the boys right? He could’ve just stood you up, or it could be some sort of meticulous trap that he had planned for all these months; get your trust then fuck you over. It seemed too cruel, but then again he was the demon overlord.

Then you heard the sharp intake of breath, and turned away from the ocean to see him there with shining eyes and a soft smile. You’d never seen him so happy, and that alone calmed your nerves, even releasing a tentative laugh.

“Y/N,” Crowley whispered, walking up to you. “You look… astonishing. There aren’t words. I’m so glad that you came through.”

“Crowley, I’m wearing a tee and a skirt, not really awe-inspiring,” you chuckled, denying his compliment.

“Speak for yourself. I’ve lost track of how many years I’ve been around, and I’ve never laid eyes on anything close to what you are. Amazing.” His lips were suddenly close to yours, and you met his glance with a flirtatious smile.

“Well, I’m glad you like what you see. You’re not too shabby yourself,” you mocked, holding onto the opening of his suit. He gave you a mischievous eye brow wiggle.

“Let’s see if tonight heightens my ratings, shall we?”

“Well,” you said, looking around at the abandoned beach. “Location so far has lowered the appeal, I got to say.”

He shook his head, pointing behind you with a knowing smile. You turned and were shocked at what you saw. A huge boat awaited you, stairs set on the dock, ready to board. You looked back and forth from it to Crowley, entirely confused.

“That wasn’t here like two seconds ago…” you muttered, baffled. He put his arms out, shrugging as though it was nothing.

“King of Hell has it’s perk, baby girl.” You laughed, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he grabbed you by the hand and led you onto the boat.

So you rode with him, leaning on the edge of the boat to see out as far as possible. The moon began to show, and you marveled at the pinks and blues painted in the sky. Crowley stood beside you, beckoning for some drinks. A man in full butler attire arrived with two drinks for you two, a sweet notion until you saw his eyes turn black. Your stomach churned, looking around at all the workers and realizing their true form. Even the woman steering the boat was one of them. You tried willfully to ignore the staff choice on Crowley’s part, which became surprisingly easy with the way Crowley was looking at you. Almost dreamy, it was strange to see his usual aloofness disappear.

Soon enough, you arrived at a seemingly secluded island. You smiled softly at the beauty and strange mysticism of it, already feeling the romance of it all. Fairy lights were strewn all throughout the palm trees, tiki-torches adding a little extra flare to the beautiful lighting. Crowley handed your glasses over to the butler, and began leading you down the stairs of the boat to reach the silky sand. You were so glad that you dressed comfortably, your flats quickly becoming handy.

             A coffee table and a couch sat on the forefront of the beach, candles set around them in a circle, almost creating another “room” on the island; a very lounge-esque set up for the beach. Being the King of Hell really did have its perks.

Flower adorned the beachy ground as soon the forestry began on the little island, vibrant and beautiful and almost beckoning to be smelled and adored. Crowley saw you eye them and began to lead you in their direction.

“The flowers on this island are some of the most beautiful in the world; seeing all the different types in this proximity is a rarity. A rare type of beauty, they reminded me of you.”

You smiled softly at his sentiment, looking at your hands intertwined sweetly. They fit together so perfectly, like the mold you’d been missing all your life. Crowley and you strolled, hand in hand, smelling the flowers, him pointing some out by name, which all began to sound the same to you after a while, and eventually taking a pink one and sticking it behind your ear gently.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, but he wasn’t looking at the flower. You continued to explore the garden for a few more moments, a foreign bliss taking over you. Feeling so at ease was unusual, in fact you wondered if you ever felt so good. You wondered why it had taken so long to find him, and why not sooner.

After a moment, he stopped, his voice deep and tempting.

“I think those are all the types, or at least my favorites. Are you thirsty?” Crowley asked, doting. You smiled and nodded, feeling as if you would follow him anywhere. You walked towards the couch, finally settling into the most fluff and comfort you had ever encountered. The couch didn’t look as though it would be so comfortable, yet it was like a piece of heaven. The thought made you smirk, a sharp contrast from your date’s idea of heaven.

He masterfully opened the bottle of wine set on the table, two glasses ready and waiting to be filled. He poured them expertly, handing one to you and grabbing one for himself. You slid off your shoes, tucking your legs under you comfortably as you sipped.

“Not your usual whisky, huh?” You winked at him.

“Not for my girl.” His words made you smile, shivers going up your spine. You liked that, especially coming from his lips. _My girl._

He raised his glass to toast, and you eagerly joined in.

“In Celebration,” he cheered, his eyes shining as they looked at you.

“For what?” you inquired, unsure what he would be so excited about.

“For you finally ignoring those Winchesters and going for what you want,” he smirked. The statement seemed harsh, but you toasted him anyway. He could celebrate that, while you celebrated the high of knowing his feelings were pure, finally coming to terms with the genuineness on his part.

You began to laugh under your breath, your eyes closing as you shook your head. Crowley looked at you strangely.

“What is it?” he questioned.

“I’m just thinking about what I’m doing,” you replied, looking out to the sea. You saw him motion for you to go on out of the corner of your eye. You both took large gulps of your wine. “I’m a hunter who’s killed countless demons, and here I am, against all advice, on a date with the King of Hell. All my instincts keep saying is to run, but there’s something in me that just can’t do that.”

He nodded. “I felt that way in the beginning too, tried to figure out why I couldn’t let you die. One less hunter to worry about, one less Winchester sidekick, just makes my life easier. Then I got to know you, and I stopped bothering to wonder why and just began to appreciate my instincts. There’s something so different about you, and I hit the lottery finding you. It’s probably a little more difficult for you, defying what you think is right, going against what those imbeciles you somehow love would want. But I’ve known that from the start, so I’m here for it. No matter how long it takes you to be comfortable, I’m with you, every step.”

Your eyes watered slightly at the speech, your wine gone and no longer a distraction from your feelings.  You looked at him for a while, the look in his eyes so sweet. You never expected something so sincere to come from a demon’s lips. Suddenly, what the boys thought no longer mattered, all that did was you, Crowley, and the endless soothing waves.

“Let me show you something,” he commanded after a moment, grabbing your hand and leading you away from the couch once his wine was gone as well. He led you to a little opening on the beach, a place where the beautiful forestry decided to back away a distance. The sky seemed vast and endless in the spot, and you leaned against Crowley’s side in awe. He began to point out to the endless night.

“This is my favorite spot; you can see almost every part of the sky from here. That’s the big dipper, and over there? That’s the little dipper.” You nodded your head, following his guidance. Constellations had always seemed like random connect-the-dots to you, yet in that moment they seemed to make perfect sense, as though the stars were finally aligning in front of your very eyes. You stood for a moment, your eyes drooping as his deep British lilt lulled you. Suddenly he began turning to face you, and it wasn’t until that moment that you realized how much you had been leaning on him.

You twisted slightly so you would fall into his arms, and he graciously caught you. You threw your head back laughing, feeling the warmth of happiness and the wine run through your veins. He kept you in his arms even after you were steady, and for once since you began in the stupid business of hunting, you finally felt a sense of security. He swayed slightly, holding you as if dancing to the rhythm of the waves as they crashed behind you. You let him lead and move you around, warm and comfortable in his embrace. Suddenly he stopped, looking down at you with an expression you had never seen before. Well at least not in real life, and definitely not towards you. It was affectionate and blissful and appreciating and tender. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized his eyes were green. And it wasn’t until that moment, that your chronic urge to kiss him became completely unbearable. So you did, celebrating more than just the genuineness of his adoration and the freedom from the boys’ thoughts, but the feeling of finally enjoying your life as well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also at: http://deansleather.tumblr.com/post/147484708718/delayed-rebellion


End file.
